Fallen
by Wolfywoman
Summary: The journey of Jill Valentine, from mere pest to worthy partner, all through the eyes of her most hated nemesis. Follows from the fall from Spencer Estate all the way up to their meeting with Sheva and Chris. *Hints of Chris/Jill* Please R&R!


The fall had hurt.

No, that wasn't entirely true.

The _landing_ had hurt, the fall had just been aggravating.

Not that he could remember much from it, save the sudden stab of pain from glass cutting into any exposed flesh it could, and the nauseating disorientation of being thrown headfirst out a window.

Oh, he might have remembered screaming, too; not his own, of course, but maybe Chris'.

Poor, naïve Chris.

Wesker would have laughed, were most of his ribs not cracked.

The blond had managed to land on his belly, which had been quite a feat for the speed he'd been racing at and his initial positioning. The man – no, the Tyrant, was trained in martial arts, weaponry, a vast array of technical and logical information, along with a host of other specialties he'd picked up in his line of work. Sadly, nose-diving off of cliffs had not been included in the skill set; and his initial wild flailing during the fall certainly implied as much. But, as the ground had neared his rationality sunk back in; Wesker had tightened his body to himself as much as possible, arms and legs curled in so that they would absorb most of the impact.

Now at least one of his arms was broken and lay twisted uselessly under his chest, the other having stretched out despite his efforts to keep it near and breaking at the wrist. Both of his shoulders were sore, though he doubted they were dislocated. Various ribs were cracked, digging painfully into one of his lungs and forcing the male to issue a sharp wheeze with each hissed breath. Wesker contemplated the possibility of the lung having been punctured, but decided it ultimately made little difference in his breathing and chose instead to move on.

His femur was crushed. Like any feline his instincts had led him to placing most of his weight into his legs, usually allowing him to catch his balance and land on his feet; in this instance it had worsened the impact and allowed the greatest of shock to bury into his thighs and calves. An odd sense of disconnection was there; a hefty weight that ignited the pain to all new levels of burning.

Of course, though his thighs had received the worst _shock_, the worst _damage _had been to his head. He felt the cold substance running from the back of his scalp rather than saw it; knew his skull had at least partially cleaved open in the back. The left side of his face had buried against the hard-packed earth, and a dizzy blackness swayed threateningly in his mind, making his vision hazy. He couldn't see out of his left eye after trying to open it, though he supposed it could be from swelling, and blood pooled lazily out of his mouth; as with the blood running from the back of his head it was distinctly cold, and left a sharp copper taste.

There was undoubtedly other injuries as well; internal damage, ruptured organs and torn muscles; but Wesker didn't have the means to fully assess these injuries, settling instead for his quick analysis. As satisfied as the situation would allow, and more than exhausted, he laid still upon the grass, letting his head fall back forward with a quiet groan, eyes shut. To an onlooker he was recuperating, and it wasn't true to say he wasn't, but more than that he was summoning the energy to continue on. The tyrant had healing abilities, but great shocks to his system tended to put him out of commission for a while. How long had he been passed out after that wretched creature in Arklay Mansion impaled him?

The night droned on. Silence, punctuated by the occasional cricket or owl. The night was blessedly boring, and there was no rustling or movement to be had from some stray zombie. Not even Wesker moved. It could almost be called serene.

Then, finding the bestial strength and will he needed, the outstretched arm was dragged closer to his body. A series of snaps and quick jolts of pain alleviated the burn in his wrist, the bone healing and allowing him to put his full weight on it. All of the man's weight was then shifted to the right, so he could attempt to roll over onto his back and release the pressure keeping his lungs and other arm from the same mending.

A soft moan caused him to halt in his progression.

Wesker, bleary from pain, had assumed his body was merely feeling the pressure of his pants and coat and perhaps some of the window. Instead, it appeared that the weight had felt particularly foreign because it _was_.

_Ah. Of course._

In his stupor Wesker had completely forgotten about Jill going out the window with him; how clever of her to ensure she landed on top of him. The knowledge seemed to act as an illumination as well – now how aware he was of her warm breath brushing against his neck and ear. Her hands were tight and low on his stomach; tighter than was comfortable, and he felt them trembling. Against his back was the steady pressure and release of her chest, as her body gulped greedy breaths in.

Wesker settled his healed arm under himself, pressing into his elbow and raising up slightly to free his trapped arm. The grip on him quickly slackened as Jill's arms were freed, dangling against his sides and brushing the ground. Slowly, _ever so slowly_, he began to bring his legs in under himself. He hissed lowly at the sharp sting from it, but eventually managed to get them under his hips so that he was more in a crouching position. A series of pops and snaps set his arm back together, and the male shifted his legs back out so he was performing a pushup, allowing his ribs and lung to heal.

While waiting, he found purchase watching a steadily growing puddle of blood; it was running from his chin, he knew, but the male could spare none of his energy to cease the drooling.

A series of coughs against him brought out a gasp before he could bite it back. That was the last of the injuries immobilizing him. Wesker could feel his organs rearranging, feel teeth emerging from his gums, but they were miniscule things – now he could focus on the one to join him on his trip.

Pushing himself up completely into a sitting position, he allowed Jill to slide to the grassy earth. The woman gasped softly as her back hit the ground, and there was a fluttering of eyelids, but she remained asleep. Wesker's right eye glowed (his left was still forced shut after the shattering of orbital bones) as he sat over her, observing her form as the rest of his face reconstructed itself. Skilled hands reached out, fingers kneading at Jill's chest and stomach, poking and prodding. A few times the blond leaned in close to listen to her heartbeat and any irregularities; other times he pulled her close to his chest to feel along her spine. To an onlooker he might have seemed a very capable doctor trying to save their patient.

Wesker was not. There was no compassion afforded Jill Valentine, no interest in her continued life -- especially after how _close_ he'd been to killing Chris. He examined her more out of surprise over her survival than any desire to further it, his curiousity momentarily overriding his wrath. "How resilient of you…" He mused quietly, before coughing hoarsely into his hand. When it ceased he could once again breath comfortably; he drew a long breath in idle celebration.

Jill opened her mouth, though made no noise, and for a moment her chest hitched, body arcing off the ground and going rigid. Then there was a slow wheeze, like a balloon losing air, and her body relaxed and fell once more to the ground.

It was apparent Jill had managed not to break her skull through her cushioning it against Wesker; unfortunately the rest of her hadn't fared as well. Her arm was dislocated, and she sported a few injuries to the ribs as he had, and the tibia had snapped completely , emerging through the flesh of her shin. Still, it was distinctly more fortunate than anyone else might have hoped for. She was no doubt suffering from a shock-induced coma, but it _too_ was better than the alternative – a woman screeching in pain and trying to kill him, likely killing herself off in the process. No, this was good; Wesker could treat this.

Of course, there was also always the possibility of internal damage. That would prove a little more difficult to treat, depending on the severity. Wesker made a dry note to make sure there was no bleeding in her brain, enjoying the thought of drilling into the brunette's skull more than he initially thought he would.

Resting his weight on the back of his legs, Wesker leaned back to stare up at the way they'd fallen. From here he couldn't quite make out the window, but he certainly appreciated how far the fall had been. Vision and hearing returned to his left, and the tyrant massaged his forehead thoughtfully, eyes shut in contemplation. The nearest road was at least a few hours away, and there was no telling who would be encountered; the last thing he needed was a BSAA team sent in. Reaching into his pants pocket he groped around until he found what he'd been looking for; a sleek cellphone, surprisingly having survived the fall as well.

Nimble fingers flipped it open and tapped a few keys, hoping that despite the forest and rather ridiculous antique-of-an-estate perched above there'd be some form of reception. When a beep informed him there was no connection he stood up, spending a few minutes walking around in a futile attempt to gain a signal. After wandering in a small circle he decided he was his time; cursing quietly, he shoved it back into his pocket and decided he would find the nearest road, BSAA be damned.

A soft gasp drew his attention back; red eyes regarded Jill in silent contemplation. Then he strode forth, lifting the small frame into his arms. It was tempting to sling her over a shoulder – _too tempting_, but if she was suffering cranial injuries such a thing would hasten her demise. Though Wesker may not have felt any affection for the brunette, the curiousity in him was piqued. Her will to survive was absolutely _fascinating_.

The male dwelled little on the subject for now, however, focusing instead on trying to navigate his way through the maze of a forest. The four years as S.T.A.R.S. captain had done him good; it had given him access to survival training and wilderness tactics. Wesker followed bright polaris above, heading true north with Jill clutched to his chest. She put up minimal resistance, her occasional shifting hardly enough to rival Wesker's grip on her.

The blond moved at a leisurely place, despite the possible trauma to his companion, chin tilted down slightly so he could hear and sense his environment. He stared at nothing, besides the occasional glance upwards at the stars, hands tight on Jill still. They looked like quite the pair, her head cradled to his chest, his large arms wrapped over her tiny frame. Were it not for the bloody mess it could have been romantic. Chris would have been furious.

Of course, the blond was apathetic at best to almost all humans, and the thought of him being romantic was something to scoff at. As soon as he returned to the lair he'd set up he intended fully to vivisect Jill sans anesthetic, more for his own sick revenge than any true desire to study her anatomy. Perhaps she would survive that, too? Years of pent up frustration, aggression and her being a constant thorn in his side was finally going to be repaid. He intended to savor the moment and draw it out for as long as he could.

For now he needed her alive, so that he could enjoy making her suffer all the more. It was a game of patience, and Wesker had more than enough to spare.

So the calm doctor remained in play, occasionally shifting the brunette if she began to slip. And Jill, unconscious, could do nothing – ignorant to the grim fate approaching, to her nemesis' arms, only aware of a burning white pain and a single face…

_Chris._

A/N: So, how was it? Not too bad I hope? ^^ I know there's a lot of these out right now, but I couldn't help myself. A lot of them focus more on Jill than Wesker anyhow, heh, and I want to include the discovery of the anti-bodies and what have you.

So, yeah. Hope you enjoyed! Please R&R!


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